


flaws and all

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: F/M, Romance, Scar Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: “Well. Guess we match, then.”





	flaws and all

**Author's Note:**

> written for [Berseria Week](https://berseriaweek.tumblr.com/) > Day 4: Daemonic/Divine

As much as Rokurou has heard about Eleanor’s scar, he’s never actually seen it before.

Now, as Eleanor unclasps her collar and allows the fabric of her dress to fall into a loose pile around her waist, Rokurou carefully trails his gaze over the patch of visibly puckered, pinkish-orange skin. The wound she sustained was clearly a large gash, stretching from slightly below her collarbone to just above her stomach, and having cleaved straight through the valley of her breasts. The mark is almost half as wide as her rib cage, and back when she was a little girl, it must have nearly covered her entire chest.

Not wanting to stare too long, Rokurou glances back up into Eleanor’s face, noting the way her lips are slightly pursed and her breaths come a hint too quick. She was the one who insisted on baring herself to Rokurou, claiming that with their relationship on the verge of becoming physical, he should see exactly what he’s getting into—but naturally, she’s still somewhat nervous. She doesn’t shy away from his gaze, though, so Rokurou dares to push just a little further.

“Can I touch it?” he asks.

Slowly, but determinedly, Eleanor nods.

The texture that Rokurou feels beneath his fingertips is raised, lumpy, and though Rokurou’s own hands are callused from sword training, they’re nothing compared to such firmly hardened scar tissue. Honestly, Rokurou can’t help but find it impressive—he’s got a decent collection of scars himself, all of which he views with some degree of pride, but none of his are a match for Eleanor’s. It’s proof of just how strong she is, to have been dealt such a grievous injury at such a young age and survived to tell the tale.

But while Rokurou caresses her scar in keen admiration, Eleanor’s whole body soon begins to shiver. Rokurou looks up to where her eyes have clamped shut and her mouth has tightened in discomfort, and he instantly pulls his hand back.

“Sorry. Did that hurt?” 

“N-no, no, it’s not that. I actually don’t feel much there at all.” Eleanor sits up a tad straighter on the bed. “I just…I wanted you to see it, but I don’t really want you to pay too much attention to it. It’s ugly.”

Rokurou hazards a little grin. “Hey, it doesn’t look all that bad. I actually think it’s pretty badass.”

“I’m not just talking about its appearance.” Eleanor simply sighs, glancing down at herself. “This scar…it reminds me of what happened to me that day. Of how I lost my mother, and how that made me become selfish, and angry, and hateful.” Her hand drifts up to her breast; her palm presses over her heart. “When my mother died, the ugliest parts of me were born, and all that ugliness is just…seared onto my skin here. Permanently.”

For a while after that, both of them are silent, Eleanor still slumped over as Rokurou motionlessly watches. Finally, Rokurou tilts up her chin with one hand, pulls back his bangs with the other, and says, “Well. Guess we match, then.”

That crack manages to get a slight smile quirking at the corners of her lips, and Eleanor removes her hand from her chest to instead thumb at the blackened skin beneath his right eye. “Most people can’t even see this anymore,” she points out—ever since Maotelus’s purification, Rokurou’s daemonic traits have become invisible to most of humankind.

“Yeah, I’d hope most people don’t get to see this either.” Rokurou waggles his brow suggestively as he gestures at her chest, and that makes Eleanor instantly flush pink and bury her face in her hands. He can hear soft little giggles being muffled against her palms, though, and when Rokurou pries her hands away, she grins wide and playfully slaps him on the arm.

With the mood successfully lightened, Rokurou grasps Eleanor by the shoulders, slowly bending down to press his lips to the middle of her scar. Her breath audibly catches in her throat but she doesn’t protest, doesn’t try to stop him or move away, so Rokurou begins trailing kisses up, up, up. Once he reaches smooth skin, he shifts to suck gently at the point of her pulse, and when he finally pulls away, Eleanor’s mouth is parted and her eyes are bright.

She looks utterly blissful.

“For what it’s worth, this scar is a part of you,” Rokurou says, brushing his fingers over her breast. “So I like it a lot.” 

“…Thank you, Rokurou.” Eleanor smiles, once again cupping his right cheek in her hand as she stares into his daemon eye with her own unyielding green. “For the record, I like your markings a lot, too.” 

Eleanor leans in to kiss him and Rokurou lets her, his lips happily accommodating hers, his arm curling around her waist to pull her in even closer. Her chest presses firm and warm against his, and after they separate, Rokurou allows his gaze to roam down her half-naked form.

“Soooo,” he drawls, letting the interest seep into his voice. “Any chance you’d feel like showing me the rest of that skin?”

Eleanor rolls her eyes, but she obliges him, falling back and shifting on her legs in order to pull her dress off entirely.

The sight is positively divine.


End file.
